Dulce et Decorum Est..Pro Patria Mori

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

8 October 1917 - March, 1918
Wilfred Own

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If you are a family member and take offense at the use of an image or my comments, please flickrmail me with your concerns.

If I've quoted information from your site, (especially if I've not given you credit due to my incompetence), I'm happy to remove and just leave a link. Please bear in mind that I want people to go and look at your web-sites and appreciate the work and commitment you have put in.

Finally, please think about what these headstones and memorials mean. Each of these was an individual human life, brought to an end far too soon.

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them